“Will they fear us when we’re wolves?” “Yes, boy.” She nods. “They will, but not all will fear you.” “Even though we’re the strongest?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because wolves? They don’t work alone. They have a helper, one who leads them, helps them to their prey.” “Really?!” She smiles again but brings her finger to her lips and I clamp my hand over my mouth. “Yes.” “Who?!” I shout in a whisper. “A bird.” My head pulls back, my nose scrunching. “A bird?” I laugh. But Maybell doesn’t laugh. She nods. “A beautiful, black bird.”
―
Meagan Brandy,
Reign of Brayshaw